That Which Runs Red
by Stirack
Summary: A midnight stroll can turn into a life altering moment for a man like Erik. A pass by Notre Dame, the shattering of a 13th century window, and suddenly two infamous figures of the of the late 19th century come face to face in the alleys of Paris: Erik, The Opera Ghost, and Van Helsing, monster hunter. Two men with nothing alike except for the knowledge of that which runs red. EC
1. Chapter 1

The female scream that had split the night air like thunder was the first sound to catch Erik's attention. The second was the hearty laughter that followed moments after. The third characteristic of his evening walk through Paris, however, had the most effect on the Opera Ghost of the Garnier.

It was damn cold outside.

Grunting with mild annoyance, the exceptionally tall, lean shadow of a man wrapped the thick cloak he wore more tightly around his broad shoulders, indifference taking precedence in his mood. "Bloody weather," the eccentric Parisian complained quietly, a thin vapor of breath escaping his mouth and fogging up the inside of his full black mask. It was still early March, and therefore a hazy cloud of bone chilling cold still hung over the darkening, silent streets of the City of Light, the nipping breeze only ever slowing in the noonday sun.

Not that Erik had the pleasure of walking about at a warmer time of day whilst other members of society did. Even so, he no longer had the ebbing desire to try and meld with the human race again- any hope of normalcy, a life above ground, had been swept away nearly two months ago. "Christine…" the name hung in the frozen air, filled with great sorrow and bittersweet happiness at the same time.

"Pathetic fool." The deep emotion of moments before quickly iced over, the shadowy man snapping his cloak and intending to turn around and begin the mile and a half or so walk back to the Palais Garnier. _Why should I make myself miserable out in this cold when I can sulk just as well in the heated comfort of my rooms or a nice bath?_ He brooded silently, kicking a chunk of broken cobblestone idly.

Upon turning down a narrow, brick building-lined alley, a weather worn poster caught his eye for a brief moment:

**VAN HELSING**

**WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE**

**REWARD 2,000 FRANCS**

For the sake of curiosity, Erik examined the sketched portrait of the wanted man, his gaze taking in the wide-brimmed, western-style hat and hard eyes, the rest of the man's face obscured by a bandana on the poster. "The human race has given far too much interest in what it deems criminal- though quite a pretty price for a petty scum, I must admit." He chuckled without humor, raising on boney sickly white hand from the black folds of his cloak and pressing a spidery finger to the lips of his mask. Offhandedly Erik noted the presence of another copy of the wanted poster he'd examined slightly crumpled on the street nearby. He shook his head.

"Back to the Opera, Erik. He doesn't need to ponder over such trivial matters concerning the lower Paris society," just as he was reprimanding himself for wasting time in his odd third-person way, the thundering recoil of twin pistols caused Erik's head to jerk back in the direction of Notre Dame, his golden gaze catching the slightest light much like a cat's and glowing like the coins over a dead man's eyes. Without forethought, inquisitiveness got the better of him and he turned on the heels of his boots, striding quickly and silently back in the direction of the grand cathedral. Instinctively, he felt the inside of his cloak, fingering the reassuring coils of the Punjab lasso in the case of any misfortune. Crossing a bridge over the Seine to reach the grand edifice's square, Erik halted briefly to stare at the corpse of a woman lying in his path, a cigar stuck through her ribcage in a rather disturbing display. The Opera ghost brushed past without even blinking, feeling no remorse for the dead body he had no knowledge of.

"Well, would you look at that," craning his head back to stare towards one of Notre Dame's many roofs, he took a guarded amount of interest in what he saw. Near the very edge of the aforementioned roof, a hulking giant of a creature stood cackling in maniacal laughter, holding out man (Of regular size and stature, I might add) over the edge of the roof. The beast of a creature also seemed to be missing an arm, chopped off cleanly near the middle of the upper arm.

_ "It's been a pleasure knowing you, au revoir!"_ With his acute ears, Erik clearly heard the booming voice of the creature. A mere second before said creature hurled the man it held off of the roof, the Frenchman in the black mask sighed roughly, crossing his arms in annoyance and cringing slightly.

"What a massacre of my native language… Bloody English…"


	2. Chapter 2

Curiosity is a strange emotion. Sometimes, it calls forth the most mundane and commonplace of inquiries. In a situation such as the one taking place on the roof of Notre Dame- or, better yet the situation quickly hurtling towards the cobblestone square of the cathedral- any ordinary spectator to the astonishing circumstances may have exclaimed, "What IS that thing?!", "What is going on?!" or even, "Who is that poor man falling to his doom?".

As it turns out, Erik wasn't an everyday humdrum sort of fellow.

Turning away from the scene as if it wasn't any more astonishing than watching a brougham cross the street, he chuckled morbidly, "I wonder what'll be left of the chap when he's run out of meters between himself and the ground- better yet, I wonder who'll have the grand job of scrapping him off the church steps? Old stone has a troublesome habit of staining, sadly." Uncontrolled laughter bubbled up from Erik's narrow chest, amusement evidently found in his morbid ponderings.

Just as he was fixing the wide brim of his fedora, a sharp sound and a grunt from high above his head halted the rising volume of the Opera Ghost's laughter. The hat flipped from his head in the swiftness with which he turned, the startling golden cat's eyes widening beneath the black mask until the whole whites of his eyes showed.

The gruff man in the black duster who had formerly been falling to his death had shot a grapple gun at the last possible moment, the hook flying through the air and _through_ the hulking creature on the high above roof. The following events happened in quick succession, Erik making quick work of slipping into the surrounding shadows. After the man had thrown the creature off balance with a strong pull, it gave a monstrous pull of its own, sending it off the roof- and consequently the man back up- and through the cathedral's Rose Window with a deafening shatter of glass. As the grapple snapped, Erik lifted the brim of his had enough to watch as the creature fell to its own death, shrinking into a normal man before slamming into the ground with an audible crunch and snap. Erik didn't so much as blink, watching with a moments fascination as blood began to run between the grooves of the old cobblestone.

"Curious," he slowly raised his glowing gaze to the man standing on the cathedral roof as a crowd of gendarmes and alley-stalkers was drawn to the ruckus. "And I thought I'd seen everything on this Earth," Just as Erik was ready to hurriedly slip away and pour through his extensive library in a search for answers to what he had seen, a accusing shout from one gendarme caught his attention.

"Van Helsing! You _murderer!"_ Van Helsing- who Erik now knew was the figure on the roof- placed a western-style hat atop his head, turning and disappearing from the view of the growing crowd.

But not from the shadow of a man apart from the crowd.

With narrowed eyes and peaked interest, Erik pulled the collar of his opera cloak high around his masked face, slipping around the outside of the group around the dead body. In no time at all he caught sight of the end of a retreating figures duster jacket. A moment's debate was all the time it took for Erik to assure himself that the quickest way to a reliable answer to his inquiries was to go straight to the source. "And I can be rather… persuasive." He murmured to himself, purposely kicking a large rock- for this alley was not cobblestone, but mud and gravel- to alert his target that he was being followed before climbing a rundown apartment downspout and concealing himself on the building's balcony. With surprising speed, the man called Van Helsing drew a pair of pistols from his belt, fixed on the location and surrounding area that the noise had originated from. Erik couldn't help but chuckle, his hauntingly angelic voice resounding from everywhere and nowhere in the lone alley.

"You are quicker to the trigger than an American, Monsieur Van Helsing." Erik's almost inhuman master in ventriloquism failed to give away his exact location. He was surprised to hear the man in the alley chuckle in return.

"Better to be safe than sorry," Van Helsing lifted his head enough for the Opera Ghost to make out his facial features, even in the darkness. The man seemed in need of a shave, but besides that he held the ruggedly attractive look and build of a worn traveler.

"Indeed." Erik leisurely rested his arms on the balcony's rusted railing. "That was a rather interesting display at the cathedral," this time he threw his voice to the shadows just beyond the man in the alley's line of sight. The pistols' gleaming barrels were pointed in the desired direction in a blink of an eye.

"I wasn't aware of an audience- glad I could provide some entertainment."

"Yes, enough to catch my eye at the very least- though I find the shattering of a 13th century stained glass window worthy of objection." An edge of annoyance had crept into Erik's voice.

"Not to split hairs," Van Helsing ignored the location of Erik's voice this time, cautiously turning slow circles and pacing the alley, "But it was Mr. Hyde who did the shattering, not I."

"Ah, yes, back to the topic of interest- Mr. Hyde, you say. Bloody English, I inferred as much." Irked and ever-so-slightly caught off guard that Van Helsing was no longer following his ventriloquist trickery, Erik silently climbed down the downspout and back to the level of the ground. He intended to keep a safe distance from the pistol wielding wanted man, but didn't want to be in a situation similar to the one he had been in with the Vicomte de Changy- trapped on a balcony without a quick means of escape while staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Or Dr. Jekyll, whichever suites him at the time."

"Ah, so that explains the change between the roof and the ground- a mad doctor in the midst of a monstrous experiment, yes?" Growing bold, Erik did not bother to throw his voice, but instead moved quickly and soundlessly away from where the guns were pointed.

"You seem to be doing a fine job of figuring it out on your own, so why ask me?- Who are you?" Erik had to make a quick dash for the another group of shadows as the guns were again pointed in his general direction. He growled audibly.

"The American comment was not meant as a compliment, Monsieur Van Helsing."

"I didn't take it as one. Again, better to be safe than sorry- which am I now, pray tell?" Erik's eyes narrowed in irritation at the almost conversational edge to the monster hunter's voice.

"I'm still thinking on that- and as for a question of identity, I have many. Each as infamous as the last, sadly."

"Give me one then, perhaps I've heard of you." Their dangerous game of hide and seek continued while Erik pondered how to answer. A rare smile curled his lips beneath the mask.

"I am the resident monster of Paris, you might say; a ghost of the night- I suppose that calls for a thank you on my part for taking care of the chap invading on my territory." Sarcasm dripped like venom from his tone on the last part.

"You're welcome," Van Helsing replied. "They warned me about an Opera Ghost when I was sent to Paris after that one," he tilted his head in the direction of the cathedral square.

"I'm honored to be so well known- they being?" Erik's tone remained uninterested and monotone, but inside his inquisitive nature was starved for answers.

"The Knights of the Holy Order- the Vatican." Both men had stopped moving, Van Helsing standing in the center of the alley while Erik was melded into the shadows against the brick buildings.

"If they warned you to look out for a Phantom, how did they expect you to recognize him if you were to meet?"

"Oh, they didn't have much information- you're rather mysterious, they say, Monsieur le Fantôme," a little smile appeared on Van Helsing's lips. "Just a shadow with a bewitching voice, I was told- I figured the rest out on my own." The smile the hunter had sported disappeared as he examined the ground briefly. "Size twelve and a half shoe, six foot four," while Erik grit his teeth angrily and again moved farther away from Van Helsing, the hunter continued, examining the ground again with a raised eyebrow. "Not much over a hundred fifty or sixty pounds… strangely cat-like yellow eyes…" Erik remained unmoving save drawing an ornate dagger from the folds of his cloak, favoring it over his Punjab lasso in this situation. There was a slight click as Van Helsing pulled back the hammers of the twin pistols. With startling speed on the parts of both men, they whirled around and faced one another, one of Van Helsing's pistols held to Erik's temple while the Opera Ghost's dagger was pressed against the monster hunter's jugular.

"And a mask." While Van Helsing kept his face emotionless, Erik's eyes narrowed almost dangerously.

"Six foot five, mind you." The masked man bit back.


	3. Chapter 3

**/Well, here is chapter three, just finished less than five minutes ago! I know it's short, but it seemed the best place to break chapters. On another note, even though only a few people are reading this, it is my story that I am actively working on, so I would really appreciate some in put on how I am doing- am I keeping characters' personalities believable? What do you think of the story so far? Thanks!/**

Silence.

No gunfire, no splatter of blood, and no thud signaling a deceased body on the street. The two men in the shadowy, deserted alley in the heart of Paris remained as unmoving as stone, eyes locked in a dangerous battle of wills. The monster hunter spoke first, the hand holding the pistol to the Opera Ghost's head unmoving.

"Well, don't we find ourselves in a predicament?" His eyes flicked down to indicate the dagger pressed firmly against his throat and then back to gun in his hand.

"Hardly, _monsieur," _Despite the situation, Erik laughed, smiling hideously beneath the mask while the only indication to Van Helsing of said grin was the widening of the two saffron eyes burning holes into his skull. "Don't flatter yourself in believing yours is the first pistol I've had aimed at my head- nor the most intimidating man to have his finger on the trigger." He paused a moment as if in thought before finishing with, "Not that I've yet found a man who intimidated _me."_

"I've no doubt of that fact." Van Helsing gave a smile of his own. "Nor do I doubt my assumption that any other man to have held a gun to you is long since dead."

"Quite right- so if you value your life you will lower the modified .455 revolver." One look in Erik's piercing gaze was enough to tell he was not bluffing. Van Helsing remained unfazed- in fact, he again gave a slight smile, much to the Opera Ghost's irritation.

"That's rather impressive that you could guess the gun."

"Again, yours is not the first I've had pointed at me. Now lower the firearm if you enjoy living or I shall not hesitate to slit your throat." To drive his point home the masked man pressed the blade of his dagger closer to the monster hunter's throat.

"I see- then I shall make a counter offer. Lower the dagger if you value _your_ life."

"I do not, so the proposition is pointless." At those words, Erik's eyes seemed to darken, but not from anger or malice. A small, barely perceptible flash of pain caused his gaze to falter- something not lost on Van Helsing.

"How about this," he proposed, this time aiming at a different approach. "We both lower our weapons on the count of three and back away."

"And be shot from across the lane?"

"You could just as easily fling a knife into my skull."

"…Touché. Fine, I will abide by your compromise; one…" the Phantom began, his grip on the dagger never loosening.

"Two…" Van Helsing kept his finger on the trigger, prepared to jump into action at any moment.

_"Three!"_ They shouted simultaneously in a flurry of cloaks and coat tails as both men spun away from one another at lightning speed, coming to rest on opposites sides of the gravel alley. A few tense seconds passed where both men were sure the other would attack, but when neither took action they slowly lowered their weapons.

"… You seem to be a man of your word, at the very least." Erik stated, his voice guarded and his glowing eyes fixed intensely upon the monster hunter. Van Helsing tipped his hat.

"As do you," the hunter acknowledged.

"When it suits me, Monsieur," Erik retrieved his fedora from the ground where he'd lost it in the scuffle, placing it atop his head and shadowing his masked face. He turned to leave without another word.

"Though you seem to know my name, I haven't caught yours." Van Helsing's almost casual words caused the masked man to pause in his step. He seemed to ponder the question for a moment.

"I have many, as I have said, but one such as you may call me Erik." He looked briefly over his broad shoulder to see the monster hunter nod in agreement.

"Then I shall ask you ask you to call me Gabriel, Erik, if we are to be on a first name basis. And Erik," Gabriel Van Helsing called out one last time. "Just so you know, though I was sent to Paris after Mr. Hyde, I was also ordered to kill the monster that haunts the Opera House if I by chance came across him," This statement caused Erik to whirl around, Punjab lasso in hand and an air of confidence emitting from his intimidating form. For all his arrogance, however, Van Helsing's parting words threw him off his balance like a fist to the gut. "But as it happens, I did _not_ encounter any other monster in Paris… only a very intriguing- albeit, a tad eccentric- man. Good evening, Erik." With one final tip of the hat, Gabriel disappeared from the alley by way of a narrower one. Seemingly bolted to the ground as he was, Erik only vaguely registered the sound of a horse's hooves clopping on the cobblestone some distance away before all was silent once again.

As the Opera Ghost also turned and slunk back into the shadows after a time of contemplative silence, he knew exactly where it was he was heading to at a half past one in the morning.

He was going to see the Persian.

**/Yes, Nadir will be present in this story! I love writing with the Persian, so I can't wait!**

**What did you think of the second part of Erik and Van Helsing's encounter?**

**What do you think of Van Helsing's final words to Erik?**

**Read, review, and favorite if you love!/**


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